Dear Diary
by CodieeTheGeek
Summary: "My name is Jo, by the way. NOT JOSEPHINE. I figure we can get that outta the way now. I am also NOT crazy, no matter what my step father seems to think. He was the one who dragged me into this in the first place."
1. Chapter 1

Dear Diary,

Okay, just so you know, I'm only doing this because my therapist says I should. He says it will help my anger issues, but something tells me it's not going to help. I don't have anger issues, people simply piss me off, and they suffer the consequences.

My name is Jo, by the way. NOT JOSEPHINE. I figure we can get that outta the way now. I am also NOT crazy, no matter what my step father seems to think. He was the one who dragged me into this in the first place. Said it would help me get over the loss of my mother. He doesn't seem to understand, she died when I was ten. That's seven years ago. I'm about as over it as I'll get.

This stupid diary isn't going to help, just so you know. I have emotional problems, sure, but thats my problem. Not anyone else's, mine.

My therapist also seems to think crying would help. I am not about to cry. I haven't cried since my mother died. The way I see it now, crying is a waste of time. It's not going to change anything anyway. When my mother died, I cried every night for a week. Do you see her around?

-Jo

* * *

I dropped my pencil, feeling stupid for doing that. This wasn't going to help. My mother was dead, my father was a dead-beat who left my mother while she was pregnant with me, and my step-dad cares more about my two twin step-brothers than me.

How was writing supposed to make everything better?

"Josephine!?" I dropped my head.

"What."

"Dishes!" my step father yelled from downstairs.

"Of course." I mumbled, slamming the book on my bed. As I hit the doorway, I turned to it, "If you ever call me that, I'll throw you away.

Great. Now I was talking to inanimate objects. Maybe I was going crazy.

**Sorry for the short chapter, they will get longer as I go with it. And also, sorry if I spelled words wrong! Or skipp some. If there are some, inbox me with where it is, and I'll try to change it. :) I'mjust not used to writing on a touchscreen yet. Will update soon! -BeOriginal-**


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Diary,

Well, according to my therapist, Im now supposed to list ten good things about my appearance. He says he knows I have confidence in who I am inside, but not outside. Look, I don't care what I look like. And, I'm not about to do this.  
-Jo

* * *

I shut the stupid book, and set it on my dresser. It only took a moment before I grabbed the dreaded mirror, I had locked in my dresser. I held it up at myself. I pulled my diary back out, and wrote.

* * *

Okay, fine I'll do the stupid thing.

My muscles are coming back! My hair stays out of my face, I don't have excessive body fat,

* * *

I stared at the book, and at myself, trying to come up with something else.

* * *

This is stupid.-Jo

* * *

I put the mirror back, and the book on my bed, walking out. It was time for a run.

As I passed my Step-Father on the couch, I told him I was leaving, but he stopped me. "Wait, Josephine, how's the therapy going?" he asked, grabbing my arm.

I pulled my arm sharply away from his grasp, glaring at him, "For the thousandth time, it's Jo, and bye." I said, shaking his question away.

I heard him sigh, "Yea, well, okay, but be back by five. We've got that parent child meeting there."

I remembered, "Great. Well, your not my parent, so-?"

"Be back at five."

I rolled my eyes, heading out the door.

I ran for a long time, not even realizing where I was going, but somehow I was back at my house by four-thirty. I opened the door to my room, grabbed a t shirt, and jeans, and slipped them on.

"Josephine!? Don't forget your book!" I rolled eyes, grabbing the stupid thing, and running downstairs.

My brothers stood at the entrance way to the living room. "What." I scowled.  
The laughed, "Time to go to the witch doctor Josephine!" They said.

I looked to my father. He looked to them, "Boys." then he looked to me, "Come on."


	3. Chapter 3

I plopped down in the brown bubble chair in my therapists office. He looked at me, "Jo, how are you?" I shrugged. "Ahh, did you write the assignment?" I nodded, "Can I see?"

I handed him the diary, and he flipped to the second page. His eyes followed the words, and he frowned. "Jo, this is three, not ten."

"Y-yea, well, I had to do chores." I lied, and crossed my arms.

"Jo, I went to twelve years of college for this. I know when people lie to me." I wiggled around in my seat, "You could only come up with three?"

"I had chores!" I repeated to lie.

He shook his head, "Your father is here right?"

"Step, and yes. Unfortunately."

"Is he outside?"

"Yes."

"Can you get him?"

I groaned, opening the door. "Come on!"

My father walked in, shaking my therapist's hand, and sitting next to me. By this time, he had plastered a smile on his face.

"Nice to meet you, my name is Mr. Greene, and I've been helping your daughter."

"STEP." I yelled, "And there were so many lies in that sentence." I smirked.

Mr. Greene glared at me, "Inside voice Jo."

My Step father looked away from me, "So, how should we start?"

"Well, Jo, what are some things you wish your father would do differently?"

"Step." I corrected, "and this is stupid, so I'm not doing it."

"Josephine please?"

"IT'S JO!" I yelled at him, " And, okay, one thing you need to do, take me out of here, because I'm not crazy."

"Therapy isn't for just crazy people."

"Yeah, right."

"Don't I remember you saying something about how your mother went to therapy?" He said as if he had caught me in a corner.

I froze. "Yea. She did. Wanna know why? Because my drunk of a dad abused her every minute of their relationship." Mr. Greene's face was yellowish now. "I'm leaving." I stood up, walking out if the room. Once I got out, I realized, I didn't have a ride home, so I waited for my Step dad to finish.

About an hour later, I had passed out. By the time I had woken up, I was back in my bed, and it was dark outside. I looked to my left, and saw my diary. I sighed, unzipping my jacket, and slipping off my over shirt. I pulled my jeans off, and threw all of the clothes on the floor. I curled back up, after turning the fan on, and went back to sleep.

* * *

I was eight now, roaming through my mother's closet. "Mommy, what's this?" I said, pulling out a huge chest.

"That's my memory chest, Jo."

I looked inside, the big box almost swallowing me up. My mother grabbed me by the waist, laughing and pulling me out. I had grabbed an old report card, "And this?"

"Well, lets see shall we?" She picked me up, and put me on her lap. My mother opened up the card. "Ahh, this is your old report card from when you were a little girl." She had the most beautiful smile. "You got...two A's, four B's, and a C." She looked at me, "Very good grades." Mother poked my nose.

* * *

I awoke in a cold sweat, sitting up. My breathing was heavy, and my eyes were tender. I hated having dreams about mom. I would remember how amazing and beautiful she was. Then I can't help but think about how I am. Mean, crabby, bossy, and ugly. Nothing like her at all.

I held my knees, thinking all these things over and over again. There was no way I was going to get any more sleep tonight. I had only sat for a minute before I heard a familiar voice in the room next to me, the living room.  
I shot up, pressing my ear against the wall.

"And she has also expressed an expensive amount of self hate.."

"Mm-Hmm."

It was my therapist! I couldn't believe it. He had come over while I was asleep and told my step father everything I said. This was madness.

"How long ago did her mother die?"

"Seven years."

"And her real father?"

"Died."

I rolled my eyes, "Left." I corrected quietly.

"Okay, we'll, I'll come back after tomorrow, when I meet with her again. And again, I'd recommend just having a father daughter talk. Maybe doing something she likes, like jogging?"

"Yup, thanks, I'll try."

I took my head off the wall, and slumped on my bed. I would watch what I said to Mr. Greene for now on, and I wasn't looking forward to this father daughter talk.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Much to my surprise, I had actually slept again the night before, and was now heading out the door to my morning run. I figured I would leave early, to avoid an awkward conversation withy step father.

Much to my displeasure, he was already up, and grabbed my wrist, as I walked passed him.

"What." I snapped, pulling my arm free for only a moment before he took it back.

"Be careful." he said gently.

I stared at him. Why would he care if I was safe? He doesn't care about me. He only cares about his trophy children, Josh and Jacob. It was always, 'No time for Josephine's dance recital, the boys have a football game!' or, ' Josephine, no fighting with your brothers.'

"I always am." I said slowly.

"I mean, I would rather you go jogging with someone. Not alone. You could be snatched up."

I rolled my eyes, "And just who would I jog with." I said as a rhetorical question.

But, he answered, "Me?"

"You?!" I cackled,"I would leave you in the dust!"

"Ehh, you forget, I used to be a star track athlete."

Next thing I knew, much to my displeasure, my step dad was right next to me, running as fast as he can. I could see the sweat building up on his forehead. You could tell this guy hasn't ran in a while. We've only gone four blocks, and he's already sweating like a dog. 'He does know I run two miles right?' I thought.

"So!" He panted, looking over to me. I shot my eyes back at the sidewalk"What's going on in your life?"

"I know what your trying to do. You and Captain Big Mouth woke me up."

He looked a little shocked, "Look, you don't talk to me, so where else am I supposed to find out!" he stopped in his tracks, as I stopped with him. My anger level was building quickly. "I sent you there so I could learn more about you. Your mother was better with these things. I know nothing about what teenage girls think!"

I calmed myself. "What do you want to know." I said sternly.

"Simple things! Like how's school doing, or if you have a boyfriend."

"School is shit, and no I don't have a fucking boyfriend! Who would fucking date me!?" I yelled, the rage boiling my pupils.

"What do you mean by that." he said calmly, but I could tell he was surprised by my yelling. I've yelled at him before, but never cursed.

I scoffed, throwing my hands up at the clueless man, "LOOK AT ME, I'm just like a boy! I look like one, I act like one, and people think I am one sometimes!" I had started counting on my fingers.

"Josephine, your a beautiful young lad-"

I shoved my hand in his face, "SAVE IT. IM UGLY, AND I DON'T CARE." I lied.

"Your not ugly, you look just like your mother?"

I paused, tears coming into my eyes. That was the last straw. I turned on my heels, and sprinted away from him.

As I ran, tears fell, smacking the concrete. I was nothing like my mother. I was a disgrace to her. How dare he tell me different.

I had no intention on going home anytime soon.


	5. Chapter 5

I ran for what felt like hours, until I ended up back at the park. I sat under a tree, sliding down to the bottom. I covered my face in my hands. I sobbed, thinking of my mother.

This lasted for a while until I heard footsteps approaching me.

"Hey, are you okay Ma'am?" I heard a soft familiar voice echo.

I looked slowly up. "B-Brick..?" I sniffled.

His eyes opened like saucers, "Jo?" I nodded, looking down. "Man, I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?" He smiled. I shot a look at him, and his smiled faded. "Whatcha crying for..?"

I sharply looked away, crossing my arms, "I'm not crying."

He sat down next to me, his sides touching mine. Brick lifted his hand, and pulled my chin back. "What."

"Nothing. " I pulled away, keeping my eyes on his.

"Jo, I know you don't like opening up, but... Please? I just want to help."

I usually at a time like this would slap the boy across the face, and run, but for some reason I have yet to find, I collapsed in Bricks lap, sobbing like I was before.

I knew he would have been shocked, he has never seen me cry, but he held his composure and rubbed my back, in between my shoulder blades. The feeling was comforting. Knowing that I could cry with no one judging me was great, so that's what I did. I cried. For the first time in 7 years, with someone watching me, I cried.

3rd person POV  
Jo's step dad clutched the wheel of his car, his knuckles turning white. After the argument with his step daughter, Jo had left, and he didn't expect her to come back home anytime soon. He had just went to pick up dinner for his boys, ( he figured Jo would have already stopped home ) when his phone rang.  
He quickly shuffled around, his eyes dashing back and forth from his jacket and the road, as he gathered up the cell, and answered it.

"Yello?"

"Dad!? Is Jo with you?" The sound of his son Jacob startled him.

"Uh, N-No, why?"

"Just wondering, she's not home yet."

The man stared off, taking a while to process what his son has just said. Jo was never late. Even when she'd run off in anger, she would always come back before dinner.

"I'll look for her after I drop dinner to you two."

Jo's POV  
I sat up in my earlier position, rubbing my eyes. The warm wetness covered my hands. Brick smiled slightly, pulling out a napkin and handing it to me."Thanks..." I looked to him, and smiled weakly. "Sorry for being such a baby."

He chuckled, "You weren't being a baby. Crying is good for the soul."

"Geez, your starting to sound like my therapist.."

"It's true, if people didn't cry, they would eventually explode.."

"Whatever."

He smiled, "Your step-dad knows you here right?" I shook my head. " Well, then what's your number.. I want to call him.. Let him know where you are so he won't worry."

I grabbed his phone, dialing the number, and shoving it back to him. As he grabbed it from my hand, I grabbed my knees, and pulled my face in.  
After about 15 minutes of Brick's non stop 'Yes sir...' or 'Uh-huh...' he had shoved his phone in his pocket, and looked back down at me.

"He wants you home... Said he was worried about you.." I shook my head, still gripping my knees. "Well, I told him I would take you home, so you kinda have to."

I groaned, standing up with his help. "I'm not talking to him. He's going to want me to talk to him, as usual, but I'm not going to." I crossed my arms, walking with Brick back to his place; he had lived right across the street from the park. He walked faster than me, opening up the door to the passenger seat. I stepped in, thanking him, as he got around to the other side.

The car ride home was death silent. I was thinking ways to avoid any contact with my step father in my head. 'Maybe I could just walk in, and shoot straight to my room,' I thought, 'No, he would just walk upstairs and yell at me for not being home before diner... God I don't want to speak to him...' Brick's voice had pulled me back to reality.

"Here we are. Home." I stayed silent, leaning my head against the door. "You want me to go in with you?"

I did. "No, he'd just bombard you with questions."

"I can deal with it." Brick smiled, opening his door, and coming around to let me out. I stepped out, and we headed to the door.

Once we hit the front door, I turned to him, "You don't have to come in.. I just want to sneak in and go upstairs anyway.." I rubbed my arm awkwardly.

"Nonsense." he laughed, ringing the doorbell, before I could stop him.

I dropped my head. "Why didn't you knock...?" He shot me a confused look. "We never use the doorbell..."

"Whoops."

The door opened, my step dad staring down at us. I shook. "Well, Brick, thanks for bringing me home!" I said a little too loud. I attempted to sound cheerful. I tried to glide my way inside, but my Step Dad caught me.

"Stay in your room."

I complied, running up the stairs, ignoring the comments from my brothers about how much trouble I was in.

Once I was finally inside, I collapsed on my bed, before getting dressed in my night clothes. I curled up in a ball, waiting for the dreaded footsteps come up the stairs.

This waiting was torture

-  
I had nearly fell asleep, when I felt a pair or hands shake my shoulders. I jumped at the feeling, quickly turning my head to the hands.

"Wake up." My step dad said sternly.

"What.." I groaned, my eyes peering open slowly. I sat up on the head board of my bed.

"Why didn't you come home." He said it no like a question, but almost like a scolding.

"I didn't want to."

"I'm not going to let you disrespect me. I've let this little game go on far enough."

My mouth opened, but he continued.

"You are going to leave this house when I say you can. That means no more sneaking out at night, and yes, I know you do. It's too dangerous for you to be running on the dark out at night. I will let you leave in the morning, but you will take your phone so I can call you. You will answer when I call you. You will also never curse at me again, or raise your voice, or else you will be on lockdown. You will live in this house by my rules. I know you don't respect me, and you think I don't care about you, but I do. I know you think I only took you in because of your mother, but if that was true, when the car had crashed, I would have sent you away to your grandmother. I'm not that cold Josephine. I love you as if you were my own daughter. Because you are. You are my daughter. I raised you since you were three. Yes sometimes I don't understand you, but when that happens, you need to let me know what your thinking WITHOUT raising your voice. I'm used to raising boys. Not girls. I wasn't prepared for this, and I'm sorry for that. I should have been stepping up as a father and I wasn't, and I'm sorry for that. But this whole predicament isn't just my fault. You are a part of this too." He paused, and I could see tears in his eyes.

I was speechless.

"I love you Josephine. Please understand that I don't hate you. I don't just drag you around, and not care. I care about what you do, what you like, your interests. I care."

I nodded, letting everything he had just said seep in.

"So, your little boyfriend is nice." He tried to change the subject, "Very polite."

"H-He's not my.. Boyfriend. Just a friend."

"A friend you like?" My face turned red. He laughed, "Ehh, I had a feeling. I think he likes you too." he looked to the side. All I could do was nod.

"Well, I'll let you sleep. We can talk more in the morning." he patted my leg,

"Goodnight Josephi-... Jo." he corrected. I smiled.

"Goodnight."

Once the door shut, I grabbed my diary and my pen, and I wrote.

Dear Diary,  
Thank you Dr. Greene. You have helped me see that my... Father cares. I appreciate that. But don't get used to this, I rarely ever apologize.  
(I love you mom.)  
-Jo.

~CodieeTheGeek~


End file.
